


How Many Times?

by reason_says



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reason_says/pseuds/reason_says
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kvothe seems to be on a mission to kiss everyone he knows. (Recounted in no particular order.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ambrose

I could fairly say I’d never expected this. I hadn’t even intended to get close to Ambrose, merely to lift a stone beneath his foot as he walked through a near-empty courtyard to cause him to trip. Oh, it was blatant malfeasance, you’ll get no denial from me on that score, but he could easily have tripped on his own, as full as he was of his own airs and as little attention as he paid to the ground. It wouldn’t have cost me anything, except that his momentum brought him stumbling into me. Sim stifled a chortle as I did my best to hold Ambrose up, furthering the impression that I’d had nothing to do with his fall. He clearly knew better, but to try to prove that I’d done something so innocuous as bind two stones together, let alone in such a way as to knock him off his feet, was more than his time and pride were worth.

I saw him wrestling with this dilemma even as he fought against my grip, his efforts only overbalancing us both and sending us to the ground. I twisted with all my stage-fighting acumen and we landed with him on his back and me on top of him; his face reddened dramatically, and his breathing increased in tempo. Nothing if not a showman, and intrigued by the possibility, I bent my head to give him a quick peck on the lips before springing up and offering him my hand to right himself - a generous offer he declined, instead struggling to his feet and leaving the now-abandoned courtyard in a flurry of excessive cloth.

Sim looked after him, still laughing, and offered to stand me drinks that night. And, well, that’s hardly an offer to be declined, is it? Especially in payment for such an entertaining conquest.


	2. Tempi

“Tempi, is kissing one’s teacher of the Lethani?”  
Surprise. Understanding. His fingers indicated a smirk, but almost shyly. “It is not… _not_ of the Lethani.”  
“Then…” I moved in, but he stopped me with a hand on my chest.  
“You must ask.”  
“I just did!”  
“No.” Formal. “It is like with the dead. You must _ask_.”  
Of course. There was a rule for everything. “Tempi… may I kiss you?”  
He smiled then, really smiled, and though it was small I could tell he was doing it for my benefit, which made it mean all the more. “You may.”  
And I did. And I did not stop.


	3. Simmon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows directly after chapter 1.

Sim was as good as his word, treating me to the best the Eolian had to offer and a good deal of its less top-shelf fare in the bargain. Deoch laughed loudly the first time Sim told the story, and politely the next five times. After that, he simply patted me on the shoulder and left to circulate. Near the end of the night he was good enough to remind us that we’d best be on our way before we required the wheelbarrow he couldn’t spare, which we took as our cue to leave.

We made our careful way to the bridge, weaving only slightly as we avoided the cobbles rising up to meet us. As we steeled ourselves for the ascent, we leaned against one another and caught our breath.

“I can’t believe you kissed him!” Sim shrieked for the thousandth time that night. His voice had grown shriller with each repetition, and the sound of it in my ear was beginning to grate. He tilted dangerously as he gestured in his perpetual disbelief, and I caught his shoulder.

“Careful, this is just how that started.” I tried to sound flippant, but in truth, I was more affected by his proximity than I generally preferred to let on, and the topic on my mind hardly eased matters.

"Oh, what, I'm gonna fall on you and that'll make you want to..." Sim trailed off as he righted himself and turned to face me, apparently seeing more than I'd intended to convey. "...kiss ...me?"

"Well, not if you don't want me to, of course." I rolled my eyes, a phenomenal effort, and attempted to shake him by the shoulder in a jocular manner. "That wouldn't be sporting at all."

I did, of course, very much hope that he wanted me to, but I didn't want to press the matter. All thoughts of which were driven from my head when he grabbed my shoulder as I was gripping his, pulled me closer - nearly unbalancing us both - and pressed his lips to mine. It was nothing short of awkward at first, all teeth and noses and too many types of alcohol competing in both our mouths. When I'd relaxed from the initial start, however, it proved nearly as effortless as sober kissing.

After long minutes in which we were very lucky no other students attempted to follow that particular path back to the University, Sim pulled back, blinking.

"You're... you're really good at that." He blinked again, shook his head, and laughed. "No wonder you get so many free drinks."

“Well, yes, Deoch does seem to appreciate it.”

But that, I think, can wait.


End file.
